


Discarded Muse

by JazzGirl123



Series: ChloNathWeek2K17 [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 00:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11196390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzGirl123/pseuds/JazzGirl123
Summary: Day III: Art“I...can’t,” he said finally.Her nostrils flared and she jabbed his shoulder.“Why not? It’s not because we’re dating, right? You had no problem drawing Marinette when you dated her! You spent over an hour drawing a portrait of Sabrina! My best friend! But you won’t spend a single second on me? Why the hell not, Nathanaël?”





	Discarded Muse

**Author's Note:**

> I like how I had the whole afternoon free but I still waited until one am to start writing, so I blame lack of quality on grogginess.

Nathanaël hummed as he sat under the tree, tapping his pencil against his chin. 

It was lunch time, and students were milling around the courtyard. He always enjoyed sitting in this particular spot and watching the people that passed by. 

He especially loved drawing the scenery. There were less details to worry about than if he was doing a single portrait. 

“Ugh, you’re here again?”

He looked up, blocking the sunlight with his hand, and peered up at Chloe.

“Yeah, well, I’m here every day,” he replied, turning back to his sketchpad. “There’s a blanket in my bag so you don’t have grass stains.”

“You’re assuming I want to join you,” she remarked even as she dug through his messenger bag so she could settle down next to him.

Nathanaël rolled his eyes, a smile creeping up on his face as his girlfriend rested her cheek against his shoulder. 

“Where’s Sabrina?” He began to shade in some of the people’s clothing. “I thought you were eating together today.”

“Mm, she went to have lunch with her dad,” she murmured, watching the pencil move across the page. “It’s his birthday, I think. Of course, I offered to reserve them a place somewhere nice, but they refused. What a shame.”

“Let them have their day, Clo.” He glanced up briefly before he returned to his sketch, now focusing on the old woman and her dog. “I’m sure they have their own traditions.”

“Mm.” 

Her eyes flickered up to his face, taking note of the focused look in his eyes and the way his nose crinkled when he didn’t like what he had drawn. She didn’t really understand why he loved art so much, but she admired how much work he put into each piece.

Even these sketches filled with strangers. He never half-assed them. He painted everything and everyone in front of him. 

Except her. 

And she didn’t understand that either. Weren’t artists supposed to declare their lovers their new muse or something? There should have been countless portraits of her filling up his sketchbooks, decorating his bedroom walls, taking over the margins of his notes.

But there weren’t.

Of course, that didn’t mean he didn’t love her or anything of the sort. She knew he did; he told her every day, and she the same (though more often than not, in an embarrassed mutter).

It bothered her more than she wanted to admit. Although to be fair, she felt she had a good reason to be upset. 

He drew _everyone_. Strangers, classmates, friends, teachers - everyone. It was good anatomy practice, he had told her, to draw different features. 

Seriously though; he had drawn _Marinette_ when they were dating. And they had only dated for, what? Three, four weeks?

Chloe and Nathanaël had been dating for three months now, and not once had he drawn her. He never asked if he could and she had never bothered to ask if he would because she just assumed, and apparently she had assumed wrong.

It just wasn’t fair. 

“Chloe?”

She blinked, looking up at her boyfriend in surprise. He stared back with concern, his pencil dropping onto his lap.

“Are you okay? You’ve been really quiet,” he said, cupping her cheek as she sat up straighter. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” she lied, leaning into his touch. “Pay attention to me.”

Nathanaël’s worried look turned to an amused one, his lips curling up in a smirk. 

“A demanding princess,” he remarked, stroking her cheek with his thumb. 

“Queen,” she corrected before he swooped down and captured her lips with his own.

They remained oblivious to the time passing around them. His hand came up to cup her other cheek, and she moved closer so her body was pressed against his. Her hand came to rest by his collarbone, her fingers just barely grazing his messy red hair. 

Nathanaël pulled away first, still cupping her face in his hands as he examined her.

“I love you,” he said softly, and she smiled, “so please tell me what’s bothering you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise.

“I - you,” she sputtered. Damn it; he could read her too well. She may as well come out and say it. “Why haven’t you drawn me?”

It was his turn to be surprised, his head jerking back slightly and his hands coming off her. She hated how she missed his touch already, even though they were still pressed against each other.

“What are you talking about?” He frowned, so focused on her question that he didn’t even notice his sketchpad falling into the grass. 

“Why haven’t you drawn me?” She repeated. “You’ve drawn everyone in this whole city, except me! Your girlfriend! Why not?”

Nathanaël touched the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze. It only infuriated her more.

“I...can’t,” he said finally. 

Her nostrils flared and she jabbed his shoulder.

“Why not? It’s not because we’re dating, right? You had no problem drawing Marinette when you dated her! You spent over an hour drawing a portrait of Sabrina! My best friend! But you won’t spend a single second on me? Why the hell not, Nathanaël?”

He remained silent, still not looking at her. Something hot pricked the corner of her eyes.

“Tell me. Tell me now. You told me artists use the people they love to create their art. So why haven’t you used me?”

She grabbed his chin and made him look at her, made him see the hurt and anger in her eyes. Let him see the tears threatening to fall. Didn’t he see how much this meant to her? Perhaps it was that that made him give in.

“I can’t draw you,” he admitted, his voice quiet and hesitant. 

Chloe scowled.

“What do you mean you can’t draw me? Is it illegal? Did you sign a contract somewhere?” Her words were filled with a sort of venom she hadn’t used in years, and he flinched. “Basically, you _won’t_ draw me.”

“No, no...I really _can’t_ ,” he insisted. “I….you’re beautiful, Chloe. That’s why I can’t.”

She crossed her arms.

“Really? Marinette is beautiful, and you drew _her_.”

“That-That’s different,” he said softly. She waited, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Yeah...she’s beautiful, but not in the way you are. You’re a different kind of beautiful, Chloe, and…”

“And what?” She asked impatiently when he didn’t continue. 

“I don’t know if what I draw would give you justice,” he admitted, eyes downcast as he ran his fingers over the sketchpad. “It’d be like painting a goddess; no amount of work could ever really capture the perfect being in front of the artist.”

Nathanaël picked up his book, hooking his finger into the rings that bound it together.

“I can’t draw you, Chloe. I’m not _that_ talented.”

Instantly, the anger was gone and she visibly deflated. There was a sense of irritation still, but now it was joined by something else.

“Oh….”

He remained silent for a few moments before he dared to look at her.

“I love you. Ridiculously so, Clo. But you’ve said it yourself, multiple times: you deserve the best if not perfection, and I can’t give that to you. I know I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Maybe she could go back to being a heartless wench; she never felt guilt then. She had never seen her boyfriend look so distraught.

“Oh, Nathanaël.” She moved closer, wrapping her arms around him and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I love you too. I just….I guess I thought you not drawing me meant you didn’t love me as much as I thought.”

“How could I not love you?” Nathanaël murmured, smiling slightly. “Just because we don’t have a lot in common doesn’t mean I can’t love you.”

“I know….I know.” She squeezed him harder, resting her chin on his shoulder. “I was just….confused, and angry. And jealous,” she admitted after a pause. “But you’re the best artist I know, Nat. Anything you create is going to be amazing, and I’d love it. Even when you had that dumb abstract art phase.”

He laughed lightly, and she felt butterflies in her stomach. She would never get over that wonderful sound. 

“That was pretty stupid,” he agreed, his voice soft and breath warm. “Alright...I’ll draw you, Chloe. It won’t be anywhere as beautiful as you, but I’ll try my best.”

“Good. It’s the second best thing you’re good at,” she remarked, pulling back to look at him.

His eyebrows furrowed, mouth parting in surprise.

“Second? What’s the first thing I’m good at?”

Chloe smiled sweetly, a sight very few got to see.

“Being my boyfriend.”


End file.
